


This One's Mine

by Poose



Series: The Reynolds Affair [3]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Adultery, Cheating, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, I Blame Lin's Mouth, It Gets Worse, Like Eight at Least, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Verbal Sex, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 13:38:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6612679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poose/pseuds/Poose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another installment of the Reynolds/Hamilton affair that literally no one asked for. It's only gonna get worse because obviously this can't end well. As a general precaution, these are adults making bad decisions, which the author neither condemns nor condones. </p><p>Please DO NOT READ THIS FIC if you are discomfited by adultery, which is very explicitly (heh) depicted herein.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This One's Mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [peakgay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/peakgay/gifts).



She gets home from work a little past six o’clock on Saturday morning. It's her third shift in a row. She likes working nights on weekdays, because when she gets home then it's only a matter of taking the dog out to do her business, feeding them both something (cereal, usually, for her), then a quick shower, and all that remains is to stumble into bed beside her snoring husband. James occasionally wakes up when she comes to bed, and if he's up then he wants sex. She lets him hammer away at her, because it's pretty easy to zone out when she's on her back, and it's a lot less work than blowing him. It keeps him in a good mood, at least.

Sunday, though, finds them both in the apartment. He makes digs at her appearance, turns the volume up on the TV when he thinks she's back talking him. 

“I think I'm gonna go to the gym,” she says, after he's made the last in a series of shitty comments about the way her ass looks lately.

“Good,” James says, without looking up from the screen. He's got money riding on this preseason game, and will sure as shit take it out on her if he loses it. She glances at the screen: it's only the first quarter. Better to miss every piece of this roller coaster. “Make sure you do some cardio, right?”

“Sure thing,” she says sweetly. _Cardio_. Yeah, she knows a guy that'll put her through her paces. 

The door slams as she leaves the apartment. 

  

 

###

 

“Hello?” he says, when she buzzes his apartment ten minutes later. His voice is scratchy with sleep, the noise amplified by the static of the intercom. For a moment she considers leaving and continuing on her way to the gym. The lie comes easily to her, but James is right, it's more than just her ass: she’s gotten soft around her middle. Her arms have less definition, and the same is true for the line of her jaw. Her breasts strain against the spandex of her sports bra.

The thing is, though, she doesn’t feel fat and unattractive, though that’s certainly what James wants. She’s wised up to his tricks by now. The way her puts her down at every opportunity, criticizes her so incessantly that she’s ravenous. Starved for compliments that only he can dole out. Let him believe his own bullshit. She feels sexy, despite the humidity, and the smell of hot garbage steaming up from the asphalt. In spite of her thrifted gym clothes, and the fact that the hair ties on her pigtails don’t match exactly. 

Maria shakes her head, silently says fuck it, and presses the button again. “Hey,” she says, “I was just heading to the gym. Thought I'd stop by?" 

There’s a long silent moment where she panics internally. Is his wife back? He'd mentioned Labor Day a bunch of times, dropped hints that he might head upstate that weekend. If that's true then they only have two weeks of — whatever _this_ is left. It'll end, run its course, so Maria is hoarding every scrap of affection, every takeout dinner calorie, every screaming orgasm she can get. They will keep her company through the inevitable leanness of autumn. Maybe they’ll meet in a hotel once or twice, and then he'll stop texting, and she'll be sad for a while, until she isn't anymore.

“Hey, you,” he says, when he opens the door, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His face is creased from his pillow, his hair tangled around his shoulders.

“Hey yourself,” she says, and walks into his apartment like she belongs there. For a couple of weeks, at least, she still does.

He shuts the door behind her and turns into the kitchen. “You want anything?” he asks.

“Water’s fine,” she answers, because who knows, she might actually make it to the gym after they’re done. 

“How’s your work?” she asks, walking over to the open computer, which is blinking on his desk next to the television.

He hands her a mineral water in a green glass, its dimpled sides wet with condensation. 

“It’s good,” he answers, as he puts his arms around her from behind. “I think it’s actually gonna be done in time, which is like, it’s a good feeling?”

She can imagine. He’s read passages to her, when she’s asked him to. His enthusiasm shines out from his face, animated by the stories he’s able to tell. She wonders what it would be like to live with a man like that; to come home to all that happiness. “Totally,” she says, and wiggles herself closer to him. 

“You get the flowers?” he asks, almost shyly, against her ear. His breath is warm, smells of sleep and mouthwash. 

“You don’t have to send me stuff,” she chides but really, she likes it. The girls at work teased her, though, even they knew that James would never have flowers delivered to the nurses' station, and if he did, well, it wouldn’t be an upscale bunch of red peonies. She ended up giving them to the Dominican grandma with the heart condition in 304C.

Maria puts her water down. He reaches across her and moves it back to the far corner of his desk, away from the computer. When his body presses against hers, he lingers for a bit, grinds up against her ass. Her hand finds the back of his desk chair as she dishes it right back. Teasing him makes her feel so incredible, because she can stop him, at any point, and he’s cool. He doesn’t whine or guilt, just suggests Netflix and that he’ll eat her out if she wants to get off. His dick is cute, but like him, it’s small and not pushy.

He twirls one of her pigtails. His lips press a trail of kisses down to her shoulderblades and back up again. “I like this,” he breathes against her ear, “this is so cute.”

“Yeah?” she says, and sticks her ass out more so that it’s nestled snug against his pelvis.

“Christ, yes,” he says, and rubs his hands up and down the tops of her arms. He goes slow, the tickle of his thumbnails raising goosebumps on her skin. She turns around eventually, gets her arms around his neck and kisses him. His hands encircle her waist, the pads of his thumbs stroking the spandex of her tank top.

“How much do you like it?” she asks, and gives the tops of his shoulders a little push.

“So fucking much,” he says, and without her even asking, goes down to his knees. He kisses her stomach where it’s pooched out a little bit, and rubs his hands over her ass and the tops of her thighs underneath her gym shorts before she tugs those down.

“Shoes?” she asks, and he unties her shoelaces and helps her step out of them. She soothes, “There you go,” as she uses his shoulder for balance and takes a moment to look him over. "You hungry, baby?" she asks, and feels her cheeks go red but he lights up when she says it, and _fuck_.

He's impatient, which suits Maria just fine. "God that’s good,” she says, and edges her body closer. His hands grasp for the swell of her ass, kneading and massaging the flesh there as he works her over with his tongue, the long flat swipes of it perfect, thorough. He laps at her patiently until she’s close, and then she fists the hair at the back of his head, guiding him as much as she’s taking him, smearing her wetness all across his mouth and chin. Her first orgasm nearly hurts with the force of it. The second is but a weak echo of the first, a damp sparkler instead of fireworks, and she’s rocking her cunt against his bared teeth, contemplating if she wants to try for a third, when he detaches himself and leans back, his hands still loosely clasped around her bare ass.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, and the look he gives her — doe-eyed, worshipful, a tiny bit pathetic — makes her insides all gooey. It feels kind of like an orgasm, but much nicer, and infinitely more frightening. 

She tucks his loose hair behind his ear. As she’s drawing her hand back he grabs and kisses it.

“So are you gonna take me to bed?” she asks to his upturned face and damp chin. “Or are we doing this all afternoon?”

He scrambles to his feet and then reels. "Whoa," he says, "head rush." She shakes her head and he says, "Put your arms around my neck." It takes a couple of tries, but he manages to hoist her up in the end. Her legs wrap behind his back as he carries her into the bedroom. He tosses her onto the bed and doesn’t even bother to shut the door behind them. One leg straddles her as he kisses her stomach. His hands push up her tank top, find her breasts, rolling and stroking until her nipples are tight peaks threatening to poke through the fabric.

Maria whimpers when he lifts the cups up so that her breasts are exposed, and then he lavishes them with the same unwavering attention that he paid her cunt, which is sticky, and swollen, and downright begging to have something inside of it. She touches the waistband of his jeans and says, in a low voice that doesn’t even sound like her own, “Go on, baby. You don't have to wait. I want you inside of me so fucking badly.”

“God,” he groans, as he rushes to pull off his jeans and, when she gives him a dirty look, his t-shirt too, “so hot, babe. I love it when you talk dirty, your voice is like —”

“Shhhh,” she says, and arranges him so that she can sit in his lap, with her feet tucked up under her knees for leverage. “Hold this still for me, okay?” She puts her small hands on his narrow shoulders and slides onto him. She’s so wet that it’s easy, her cunt is flush against his stomach almost before she realizes it.

“Shit,” he says, and acts like he’s about to lie back and change positions. 

“Oh, hell no,” she says, and tugs him back up. For good measure she places his hands at the small of her back. “You keep that right there, right where I want it, okay?” She clamps down so as to make his cock feel bigger than it is. He groans when she does that, so of course she’s gonna do it again.

He nods, his chapped lips wet from their kisses. The vein in his forehead is prominent. When she touches his head, clasping his mouth back to her breasts, the skin of his scalp is fiercely hot.

She rides him for a while, relying on her strong legs to hoist her up and down. The sound of their bodies slapping together is just the right side of disgusting, overwhelming her senses even over the steady hum of the A/C. 

“Do your thing,” she says, after a while and quick as a flash he sticks his fingers in his own pink mouth, gets them nice and wet so he can slide his hand up against her while he fucks her, pinching the excess flesh there every time he slides out.

“I’m close,” he tells her. She backs off and stands on her toes, using the ball of her foot as leverage.

“Not yet,” she instructs. “One more, okay?”

“Two?” he gasps as she rides him hard. “Three? God, just fucking _come_. Come on me, come on my cock.”

“Nasty little bitch,” she says, and he retorts, “Damn right, mama. Jesus, God, you feel so fucking good.”

She soaks his dick, then, again, and tells him so, and that makes him lose it, her hands atop his shoulders, bouncing until she makes the bed shake. When she finally lifts her leg  off and releases him, there’s a trickle down her inner thigh.

His hand goes for her again, almost automatically. “You want another?”

“I should go,” she says, even as she’s grazing his fingers. “I need to get home.”

“One more,” he says, and hangs over the side of the bed until he finds what he wants, something cordless and powerful. He positions her with her legs slung over his own, sticky and stuck together from their drying sweat. Overachiever that he is, he gives her two more in quick succession.

They’re both panting when she finally pushes him away; her body unable to yield any more pleasure, as it’s all been so skillfully wrung from her. And yet she’d take more, even though it hurts. She could take it all day.

“Can you hang out?” he says and rolls onto his side. He drops the vibrator onto the floor. “I’ll get us a pizza.”

She punches his shoulder, jokingly. “I gotta go.” James will be immersed in his game, but he'll wonder, soon. She'll have to check the score before she walks in. 

“Olives?” he asks, “You seem like you’d like olives.”

“You’re right,” she says, and stands, wincing. “Next time, okay?”

“Next time,” he huffs. “Stay, c’mon.”

“It’s been long enough already," she says. "The dog needs her dinner.”

“Text him.” He’s a child, lord knows she gets enough of that. “There’s this new series on jazz I might review. Let’s watch it.”

Maria makes judicious use of the bedroom’s Kleenex. She spares only a single glance at the overflowing jewelry tray on top of the dresser. It’s easier to ignore him.

He tries one last appeal. “I bet you’re good to go for, you know…” The words trail off.

“Next time,” she says, and kisses his forehead. “I’ll take off a weeknight, okay?”

"Sure," he answers. He reaches for his crumpled jeans and the pack of cigarettes in the pocket. She's supposed to have quit, but fuck if a smoke doesn't sound good right now. She resolves to leave before her willpower can be tested. 

"Later," she says, once she's set herself to rights again. 

"Bye," he answers, from his position on the balcony, smoke curling around his lank hair like a halo. "Thanks for coming over." 

That door slams in the frame, and she begins the slow shuffle of returning to her own apartment, a couple blocks north, smaller, shabbier, and currently housing a man who, she sees as she checks the score on her phone, has just now lost a sizeable chunk of the next month's rent. Her pace slows even more, but she makes it home, eventually. 


End file.
